If you’ve been here before you may have already heard the expression “like 2 monkeys fucking a football.” What it means is there’s a whole lot of activity, and not much accomplishment. Well, it has defintely been that kind of week. This may turn into scatalogical drivel in a minute, so you can stop here if you’d like. You’ve probably learned something already, and the value of that should never be underestimated.

I missed all but Monday at work. My daughter’s been running a fever, and gasping, and wheezing, and on our third trip…yep, third, the little shitheel looks up from his stethoscope and proclaims “I think she has pneumonia.” Now I’m not a physician, but I’m thinking from day one it’s bronchitis or pneumonia, and told him so on the first visit. This of course has caused a bit of an epiphany.

I don’t use doctors much. I find their cost generally outweighs their value, especially since pharmaceuticals are generally readily available on the sidewalk out front. Having learned over the course of the last couple of months that the system is incredibly rife with profiteering and outright fraud I question the intelligence of getting the government anymore involved. The hand specialist that has been treating me is raking in (this is an estimate based on actual time spent working on my hand) 18k an hour. I don’t mind this so much, but had i not had insurance I would’ve stitched the frankenstein finger and let the other bones set on their own. I doubt I’d be any worse off, though the scarirng may have scared small children; an undervalued gift that.

Then the pharmacy was the original clusterfuck from hell. My bad. I went to walmart. Generally I find walmart to be sufficient to the need for supplying things like paper, flour, and shampoo. My experience has been that while semiliterate cretins would serve the rest of us best by being expunged from the gene pool, a decent alternative is putting them to work, and walmart serves this function admirably. You do not, however, want them filling your prescriptions for you. I spent an hour trying to assist them in getting it right as they ran hither and yon to no little effect. I finally just took my prescriptions back, complimented them on their exemplary display of ineptitude, and contemplated as I exited the premises how much I would rather eat shit from the dispenser than go through that again. I then went to the Walgreens, and for 1.05 more was out the door in 12 minutes. Another thoroughly satisfied customer.

The pace de resistance to my week was when I arrived home to find general tso wrapped in the embrace of an entirely to dead Roscoe. I knew that sooner or later his lechery would be the death of him, but always assumed he would die of a heart attack while pulling his 3 pound furry jackhammer routine on my ankle. I was a bit put out by it all. Does this mean that that fucking cat is a better lay than me, or was it a simple case of his number was up? Whatever the case, I suppose I should be thankful that he gave me something to contemplate other than how deeply I despise the human race at this particular juncture. I left out politics here, as it would get me back to full roar on the whole despise thing, but I’ll break it out after I chase a couple of rum and cokes with a couple vicodin….kind of a Heath Ledger cocktail.

So did everybody have a good holiday weekend? Well, I know not everybody, but if most of you did, good on yuh.

How about those Michigan Wolverines? I was so tickled I couldn’t quit smiling all weekend. Being a dyed in the wool Badgers fan, seeing the always overrated Wolverines get dumped on their head by Appalachian State was better than a good heroin binge. The badgers beat Washington state (boohoo PNW), and Notre Dame got monkey stomped by Georgia Tech. All in all it was a perfect day in college football.

I went to a Mexican wedding with the chango’s from work, and other than the Cerveza (sol) tasting like warm horse piss it was a really good time. I taught a whole passel of senorita’s how to eat the worm out of a Mezcal bottle without drinking the whole damn thing, and the food was spectacular. I was asked to show my “green-go card” several times, and managed to extricate myself from the fiesta before I got inebriated enough to start calling everybody Pancho Villa.

George Bush may not be the best president we ever had, but he did something really intelligent last night. Merely by sneaking out of town to go to Anwar, he showed the world that the American Press is to be trusted about as much as Al Jazeera. So much for investigative journalism. They were only a half a planet wrong as to where the president was. Nice job ABC, CNN, FOX, et al. too funny.

The menagerie is driving me nuts. This morning Mollie woke me up before the sun. This is a no no on non-work days, and had it not been for the pitiful whine she was sounding I would have ignored her and went back to sleep. When I turned the light on the reason for her whining became all to clear. General Tso was latched onto her tail, and showed no intention of letting go. I squeezed the little ratbag’s head till she released her, and went back to sleep. I start hearing this crunching sound. I had watched a movie last night prior to going to bed, and had inadvertantly left the case open. Bad Idea. Roscoe the asshole…i mean wonder bunny was in their taste testing the DVD cases. I reached over and closed the door on his head, and then shut it proper when he withdrew. It’s not like I don’t spend 20 bucks a week to feed the little bastard. I go back to sleep. Whilst sleeping I must have gotten warm, because I stuck my foot out from under the blanket, whereupon General Tso, still angry over his ignominious removal from Mollies assfeathers, leaped to the attack. Kittens have razor sharp claws, and my foot looks like it would if Ron Popeil spent an hour testing his knives on it.

The kids on the other hand have been easy to get along with. No fighting, not even a good argument. Apparently the supplemants (thorazine) I’ve been adding to their food is helping.

Oh yeah, I went on a date with a woman a little less than half my age. I wouldn’t have, but she was buying, and I learned at a very young age to never pass up free food. It went ok, and while I doubt I’d put me through it again this wasn’t her fault. She was polite, charming, intelligent, and named after cheese. It was all I could do not to beat that into the ground.

Because it happened to be occurring at the time I generally rise anyway, I slipped on some shorts and wandered barefoot over to the golf course to check out the moon. I’d received a text message telling me I ought, and had decided last night if I didn’t wake up late I would. this is what happens when you ignore your instincts. The text message was from an ex and said something about “go look at the fucking moon asshole” or some such.

My heart was warmed by this poignant prompting, and being obstinate I almost went and took a good healthy shit in rememberance of the relationship. Instead, because I actually wanted to see it I did so. It was a moon. It was hard to see because it was in its fully eclipsed phase, and as noted at 6 a.m., blue. As I was returning to the house I noticed something dark on the steps. It wasn’t big enough to be a corpse, so with my disappointment already upon me, I tried to make out what it was.

It was a cat. A kitten rather. A furry little puntable puffball of a kitten. I’m not a cat fan. I nudged it with my foot to push it off the steps, and the feral little fuck reared back and hissed at me. In the best of times I’m not a particularly pleasant person, and in the morning I make Genghis Kahn look like a girl scout. Had this thing been human it would’ve been soundly smited and sent packing. Since it wasn’t, I went ahead up the steps and into the house. My screen door tends to close at whatever speed the wind dictates, and I’m not particularly inclined to turn and close doors. They close or they don’t, it’s all up to them.

When I finished the morning blurb, bath, and beyond I returned to the living room to do the animal things. Water the dog, feed the dog, water the rabbit, feed the rabbit, water the cat….what the hell is that thing doing in here? Apparently the cursed little dung beetle had followed me in, and was all curled up next to Roscoe. I reached down with ill intent, but as i tried to return it to its natural habitat (anywhere but my home) Roscoe started grunting at me. Not his high pitched I want to bump uglies with your ankle growl, but rather these almost nurturing sounds. I took a closer look at the kitten, and noticed that it was that blueish black color. I like to think of it as necrotic.

Each time I tried to extricate the kitten from Roscoe’s clutches he started with the grunting nonsense. I decided to hell with it and went to work, where around nine a.m. I broke my finger, and just after lunch pulled a muscle in my chest. Add to this the determination as to when I would take my forklift training, and the general all around ignorance of the workforce, and it was not a good day. I did get the east end of the baghouse done, so at least it was productive.

I drove home in one of them funks that has you cussing at everyone going slower than you for being an idiot, and everyone going faster than you for being a maniac. Don’t lie…you’ve been there. I’d forgotten about the cat. Apparently he had forgotten about me as well, for when I walked in and headed for my flop zone the mangy little hair merchant was on my couch. I didn’t see him, and the yowl eminating from him when my oversized ass landed on his microscopic body was in direct contradiction to the laws of probability. It rattled the windows. I was fairly impressed.

Cats, being spawns of satan, are incredibly hard to damage, and this one wasn’t injured. I still felt bad, so I let it hang around. Then my daughter came in. Squealing with delight she snatched it up , and spent the next several hours doing the can we keep it thing.

I now have a cat. I blame it for the eclipse, the finger, and any other damn thing that went wrong today anywhere on the planet. It’s name is general Tso’s kitten. laugh fuckers. The first time I smell cat in my house it will be general tso’s kitten, and my daughter will be in a convent.

I finished reading Deathly Hallows. I know its heretical to complain about “the great she,” but am I the only one that thinks she was looking at her watch toward the end? She seemed to tie up a lot of loose ends in a really quick hurry. Might of had a date. Book was ok. Better than the others in the overall.

I have not finished painting the baghouse. It’s large, and I’m small. I’ll win, but its kicking the shit out of me doing so. I’ve been working that grinder so much this week I’m stuck on vibrate mode. Probably a good time to get laid.

Messing with the painter(s) being all the rage at work, i have declared myself an industrial coatings specialist. It shall take several weeks for them to learn to pronounce each of those, and that will allow me to again take the upper hand in at work word wars. friggin changos de turdbiters.

I’m doing a tune up on the kids car tomorrow, and changing his front brakes. Working on cars makes me cuss, so if you need some new words, drop on by…the neighbors will go shopping about 10 minutes after i start.

Roscoe the wonder bunny is shedding his long fur. He is doing this from front to back. For a visual perspective, imagine going on a diet and losing weight top to bottom. In a related story, he appears to dislike being laughed at.

Ever go through one of them stretches where you couldn’t get laid if you were an egg? You haven’t? Yeah….well….ummmm…me either

I’m a pretty good cook. Tonight I made lasagna, and it was really quite good. Easy to. Peel back plastic. Nuke for 6 minutes. voila.

I was a little alarmed when I turned on The Daily Show. I don’t watch often, because he isn’t very funny. WOW….John Stewart looks ollllld…45 must be the new 60.

It’s a little unfortunate that so many feel the sanctity of life is more important pre-birth than post. I found this at Sobiop’s, and found it to be incredibly scathing. I like the way this human convey’s a thought so I stuck em on my blogroll.

This one needs some raving lunatic spray. His posts are always lucid and well written, but his commenters are not. Which adds a little spice. I added him to my blogroll out of sympathy. I think his blog only gets a few million hits a day, so I thought i’d try to help him out.

Now this one is a new blog. I found him when he responded to one of my 7 minute thinker posts with a 4 page dissertation on chinese trade policy complete with links. I thought the effort showed moxie, and while it’s still quite possible that he’s a bonafide Pauliac, he appears to be a high functioning pauliac and thats good by me. His comments were incredibly well written and if he knows half as much about anything as he does about trade policy he should be read by all…good luck Barry.

I’ve been reading this one for awhile, and his absence from the blogroll is an oversight. Intelligent, aware, and occassionally witty life forms are rare, and he is one. A blogger thant makes you think. this is original.

It’s sunday again. Time for more random thoughts from the thoughtless. If you are easily offended hit the out button. My blog has been caterized, and I’m decidedly cranky.

1. our schools are in disarray, our infrastructure is crumbling, and we have over 500 varieties of beer to choose from. I don’t see a problem here.

2. I feel that tarring and feathering should be part of the criminal code, and this is when it should be used.

3. Roscoe chewed through the wires on my cable box. This was either a suicide attempt or a murder attempt. Either way it was poorly executed, since we are both still alive.

4. I would like a bagel with everything so i can go put it under the tire of my car and run over it. It’s like hanging someone in effigy. It packs no punch, but you get to feel like an idiot.

5. If whites and blacks can’t agree that dogfighting is bad, what hope have we of agreeing on anything? I think blacks only find dogfighting to be ok when its a famous black person. Kind of like the whole O.J. and murder thing. It kind of bothers me that this has been made racial.

6. Give me a hammer, a paring knife, a roll of duct tape, and a fifth of anything with a spanish sounding name, and I’ll make McGuyver look dull normal.

7. I’m not pleased with the way random thoughts is going today, but at least my Tourettes Syndrome appears to be in remission.

8. 19 million people in Bangladesh and India think Al Gore is a dumbass, and I’m smart as hell…more global wetting issues.

9. sex is overrated and underutilized.

10. that being said, you may disrobe now.

11. While it may seem cute, buying your newborn a shirt that says “now that I’m safe I’m pro-choice” is a fashion no-no.

12. I’m to sexy…well, I’m not but this is:

my son taught me how to do that. It has come to my attention that being blog illiterate is not safe. If only for self defense I need to know how to do more than just type blithering idiocy. That clip was bastardized from the world of warcraft. All I can say is that is not a proper form of birth control, but probably works in the abstinence category. I’ll credit this later…he didn’t get me the URL.

13. Locking your pets out of your room almost gaurantees a decent 3 hours of sleep. At which time they will decide they miss you and start fighting like children. I’m not sure why one of them isn’t already dead. Dog? Rabbit? I want some gotdam blood.

14. Dale Jr. won the pole at pocono, Wisconsin is ranked 7th in the preseason poll, some steroid infused monstrosity hit his 755th home ron, and A-rod got to 500 faster than anyone ever has. Oh, yeah, some hockey for Janie. Edmonton is going to pay Dustin Penner 21.25 million over 5 years. Dustin is a 29 goal scorer. call it 30 and 21 million for argument. Thats $140,000 per goal. 10 dollar hookers definitely got into the wrong line of work.

15. Blogs I read everyday at least once are listed in the blogroll. The one blog I refuse to miss on sunday, is Anita’s. She prays.

16. I’d send y’all over to Ration Reality, but on sunday mornings they read chicken bones, beat up small fur bearing creatures with tire irons, and sacrifice virgins to Loki.

ok, thats enough of this. Hope your weeks went well, and if they didn’t their will be better times than these.

ha ha sucker, you got as much chance of viewing a picture here as you do of finding a winning lotto ticket in your pocket while you’re getting a blowjob from she-ra the warrior princess. You can, however, should you choose to waste the next several moments of your life enjoy what I like to think of as the least common denominator in faux literature.

The day began with a Roscoe. It always does. You know the old saw about teaching kids to walk and talk and then telling them to sit down and shut up? That’s what my rescue of Roscoe is beginning to be. He went from being the rabbit version of being a clam, to being the bruce willis in die hard version of being a rabbit. Tile no longer limits his range, but for whatever reason makes him crap. I mean all over. Little bunny balls needing to be swept up every three to five minutes so the kitchen table doesn’t disappear. He’s like a never ending bag of rabbit poo. I now sleep with a shovel so I can navigate the hallway when I awaken without smelling like an excerpt from mutual of omaha’s wild kingdom.

He has also taken to bullying Mollie. I mean bullying in the Ole’ sense. He will build up a full head of bull rabbit steam and slam into her. Mollie is mostly fur, but roscoe is a midget, and the affect of his new ramming technique on Mollie is to make her aware that he is present. Roscoe on the other hand spends three to four minutes roaming around the living room like Dean Martin after a weekend in vegas. When the concussion subsides, he proves that bunny memories are short by slamming into her again. This goes on for as long as it takes mollie to decide she is tired of the game.

So that’s how the morning starts. This morning also included a beautiful sunrise, the picture of which you can find here. It made hateful hard until I remembered we were dismantling the slag caster today. We didn’t though. It was delayed a day I know not why. The sum total of my involvement in this project is going to be cutting the molds off the chain, stacking them on pallets, and then returning them to be mounted on the new chain.

Instead me and Forrest Gump (I know it’s supposed to be Forrest Gump and I, so lick ass) painted the baghouse. Thats the new nickname of my forgetful young protege. He doesn’t seem to like it much which makes it all the better. Due to safety concerns I am required to be with him anytime he’s on plant property (to head off some dumbass, no, not in the bathroom), and he keeps forgetting things. Which means I have to walk extra steps, which vexes the hell out of me. Maybe the new moniker will encourage him. The problem is it may encourage him to throw me off the baghouse. I’ll chance it…tormenting the young is fun as hell.

So as I’m driving home my daughter calls and informs me that after I give her some money her and her friend are going to the movies and she’ll be home sometime next tuesday. That’s how she does me. I figured what the hell, I’ll stop and get some food at the deli. Cooking for one is just stupid. I order my victuals (thats vittles spelled right you chitlin eating rednecks), and the young lady behind the counter says “you don’t remember me do you?” All the alarms start sounding in my head, and I’m scrambling like hell trying to figure out what the hell I had done to this one. She appeared to young for me to have taken carnal liberties with her, so I assumed she was pissed at me for dumping her shrew mother or some such. I couldn’t place her so I said, “well, you’re obviously not one of the hateful old fat heifers that normally gaurd the fried chicken.” She said “oh, you know my coworkers.” I’m still searching my brain. I never forget anything, and I can not place this woman for shit. It turns out that she used to hang out with this gal that used to live next door to me. I even babysat her kids once. I remember her as a typical hotter than hell party girl, and not much else. She no longer looks like she did. In fact, she is no longer recognizeable, and I said so. Tact and diplomacy are not a dish that I partake of. It occurred to me after I said it that she probably took this harsher than it was meant. She is not an unattractive woman, but her hot chick party days are behind her. To me she is more attractive now, but I’d be willing to bet based on what I’ve been reading about women and mirrors she looks in hers with a bit of angst. Maybe I’m wrong. It seems 6 years changes the young more than the middle aged. She recognized me instantly. Then again, when you look like a cross between quasimodo and homer simpson, you’re a little hard to forget.

that was mostly the day. Rotten kids, rotten pets, rotten coworkers. A nice good morning, and a chance meeting of an old acquaintance. I’ve had worse days.

2. whether you’re a professor or a gardener, I think letting your kid get cooked in a car is a bad thing, and probably should be punished

3. I’ve never met a stripper I didn’t like, but I don’t loan them money

4. Leonard Nimoy is going to play spock again. I think thats cool. An old really strange guy not working as a walmart greeter.

5. a coelacanth won’t do anything but swim in a brook, he can’t write his name or read a book… would you like to swing on a star would’ve been a much different song had it been written 360 million years ago

hell its a Bing song, and i’m bored…here you go…gratuitously stolen from some other website…What that is called boys and girls is confessing to a crime.

Would you like to swing on a star
carry moonbeams home in a jar
and be better off than you are
or would you rather be a mule

A mule is an animal with long funny ears
he kicks up at anything he hears
His back is brawny but his brain is weak
he’s just plain stupid with a stubborn streak
and by the way if you hate to go to school
You may grow up to be a mule

Oh would you like to swing on a star
carry moonbeams home in a jar
and be better off than you are
or would you rather be a pig

A pig is an animal with dirt on his face
his shoes are a terrible disgrace
He has no manners when he eats his food
He’s fat and lazy and extremely rude
But if you don’t care a feather or a fig
you may grow up to be a pig

Oh would you like to swing on a star
carry moonbeams home in a jar
and be better off than you are
or would you rather be a fish

A fish won’t do anything but swim in a brook
he can’t write his name or read a book
to fool the people is his only thought
and though he’s slippery he still gets caught
but if then that sort of life is what you wish
you may grow up to be a fish
(music)
a new kind of jumped up slippery fish

And all the monkeys aren’t in the zoo
everyday you see quite a few
so you see it’s all up to you,
you could be better than you are
you could be swinging on a star

5. You bone strokers better read that. I could be incarcerated for it.

6. Dogs are way better than cats. Why? It’s simple really. Because I said so.

7. I feed my pets. My children have to fend for themselves. Thats what opposable thumbs will get you.

8. speaking of opposable thumbs…can I trade mine for a prehensile tail? It looks funner

9. Roscoe has overcome his aversion to tile floors. It is funnier than hell to see a rabbit walking like a cat, but not so funny to feel his furry little ass scootching across my feet as I’m shaving in the morning.

10. We are going to have a democratic president. This president will be a woman. I’m ok with it. Let a woman screw things up for awhile. They lie better, and I’m far to jaded to fall for just any old bullshit.

11. glass is a solid. I just said that because one group of people I’m almost certain I’ve never pissed off is the “glass is a liquid” crowd. This is what 44 years of pissing people off will get you.

12. Male praying mantids don’t masturbate. You see what it gets them? For those of you who don’t know the female praying mantis tends to chow on the male after sex. The human version of this is called “alimony.”

13. I am in pool number 20 of jurors for marion superior court. I think the best way for me to get out of it is to have them punch up criminyjicket on their computers. I’m not trying to evade my civic duty, although I have no idea why they call it that…a civic is a honda right? What I’m trying to do is make sure some poor schmo doesn’t get the chair for jaywalking. i can be persuasive when I want to be.

14. I don’t care what else you do this millenia, but at some point you should go check out Anita’s sunday prayers. She is probably the only thing keeping god from tormenting me 24/7.

15. I am now going to bed…no…you may not come along…I am tired, and explaining the birds and the bees to you is beyond my ability at this time…enjoy your week…or not…as you see fit…being pissy about everything causes hair to grow on your toenails, and nobody wants to hang out with a hobbit